A few minutes later, we were gathered by the kitchen island. Andrew started, “Brandon had used Esposito to get her ex-husband’s account information. They were planning to transfer O’Toole’s money into an offshore account and leave the country. Once we told her that Brandon had nothing to his name and was using her to get access to O’Toole’s funds, she was pissed and scared of O’Toole’s reaction if he found out she was involved. She thought he had funds of his own and believed his spiel about being connected to Senator Parker and her billionaire in-laws, the Sandekes. When Brandon showed up, we told him that we’d tell O’Toole about his plans if he ever came near us again. It helped that Esposito was ready to shoot Brandon on the spot. She’s sketchy but not stupid enough to stay with Brandon.”
“You don’t mess with the fucking mob’s hitman. Or his ex-wife. That should be a life lesson.” Dan nodded emphatically.
“So… this is over?” Hope shone on Charlie’s face, as she gripped her once-again buzzing phone.
The crooked grin widened on Andrew’s face. “Yeah. I think Brandon is genuinely afraid of O’Toole. He’ll probably disappear for a long time.”
Relief had me bouncing out of my seat and into Andrew’s lap. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Charlie slump inelegantly in her chair as Dan patted her back.
Andrew’s eyes looked tired, with shadows underneath them. I realized that I had never loved him more. I looked forward to years, nay, decades of helping him remove those shadows with lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth from smiling and laughing too much.
As if just remembering, Andrew asked, “By the way, what were you doing with the knives earlier, Tia?”
“Charlie and I thought you were intruders. Why were you so sketchy?” I accused, as I snuggled in closer.
“Sketchy? We used keys to open the gate and the door. It wasn’t as if we were breaking windows and jumping over gates. Actually, I was concerned that something had happened when the lights went off inside the house.”
“Oh, I thought it would make it harder for any intruders to see.”
“Fucking scary to see knives being wielded by a ninja in the dark,” Dan added, grinning, as he stuffed a cookie in his mouth. “Remind me not to be on your bad side.”
Companionably, we chatted around the kitchen table. In the space of a few hours, this kitchen had turned from a somber waiting room to a mini-party. In high spirits, Dan and Andrew excitedly discussed details of the confrontation with Esposito and Brandon. It was hard not to get caught up and find confetti to throw around.
In the midst of the excitement, I looked over at Charlie, who was still staring morosely at her phone. I asked gently, “Are you okay?”
Hesitantly, as if she was making the decision as she spoke, Charlie said, “I don’t know. This is all I’ve been thinking about for the past few weeks. It’s a huge relief for it to be over—it feels surreal. Now that it’s over…I should probably head back home.”
“Are you sure?” Andrew asked.
Hands gripping her phone even tighter, Charlie shook her head. “I think it’s best if I leave as soon as possible. There’s a ten o’clock flight tonight that I’d like to get on. I’ve been away from home too long.”
I had an inkling why she needed to go home, and I didn’t like it one bit. It was one thing to be dedicated to your marriage and want to be with your husband. It was a completely different thing to rush to him because he demanded it. I opened my mouth to join Andrew’s protest, when Charlie looked at me pointedly. Frowning, I kept my mouth closed.
Instead, I gave Charlie a big hug, as Andrew awkwardly patted her shoulder. With a tickle in my throat, I said, “This is the weirdest way to hang out with my not-so-new-sister. I mean it, Charlie, I hope you do visit us again in Boston. There’s always more room for another easel at our tea parties. Or we could visit you in Chicago. And I expect you to stay in touch with me and reach out if you ever need to talk about you-know-who.”
“Who is you-know-who?” said Andrew, in confusion.
Charlie ignored him and smiled at me. “I will. Next time will hopefully be less exciting. I don’t think I’m cut out for real-life intrigue.”
Two hours later, we had said goodbyes to Dan and dropped Charlie off at the airport. In unspoken agreement, we headed back to my apartment, or rather, our apartment, instead of Pippa’s house. There was an intimacy and coziness in our home, and after the past day of suspense and our week apart, I needed to cocoon myself in a safe, familiar place with Andrew. Always with Andrew.
“How are you feeling?” I asked as we entered the apartment.
“How are you feeling?” Andrew asked, his eyes probing.
“Glad to have everything behind us. I’m so excited to focus on the future now,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“Yeah, the future,” he repeated grimly.
Before I could question his dark mood, he swept me into his arms. If Andrew seemed reticent, I ignored it. If he kissed me with a hint of desperation, I chalked it up to the stress of the past couple of days. After all, he was here with me now, and there was nothing that could mask his need for me. We tumbled into the pleasure-filled chaos, and back down into each other’s arms.
Chapter Thirty-One
Andrew
September 21, 2018 (torn, never sent)
Ting Ting,
I thought about you today.
Do you want to hear a confession? I think about you every day. Sometimes in passing, like, I’ll hear a joke and want to share it with you.
Today, I thought I saw you at work. It’s ridiculous. What reason could you have for being at my law firm in NY? You don’t work here.
One of my former classmates and coworkers, Pippa (you’d like her, by the way), hosted dinner on her parents’ yacht tonight and invited me to come. She said that one of her childhood friends was visiting and that I might like her. The truth is, I don’t feel like dating anyone unless it’s you. Instead, here I am, still at the office on a Friday night, checking our client files to see if your name showed up in one of our cases, and therefore, might have actually been at the office.
It's a strange line to walk. I’ve forced myself not to google you or search for you on social media. Yet, as far as I’ve moved away from the past, part of me will always look for you.
Still yours forever,
Andrew
Tia: Where are you?
I stared hungrily at my phone as the message popped up. It was 11 a.m. on Sunday and my first message from Tia that day. Running my hand through my already messy hair, I turned over my phone as I forced myself to stare at my laptop.
At 12:05 p.m., my phone rang. I ignored it.
It rang again at 2:30.
Again at 5:17.
Again at 6:10.
Each time, I ignored it. Each time, a part of me was sliced open, the pain so acute I wondered if I was having physical manifestations of heartbreak.
“Sir, can I help you again?”
Stepping up to the counter, I asked, “Hi, I seem to have missed my flight. Could I reschedule and get on the waiting list for the eight p.m. to Chicago?”
The once-patient attendant at the Delta counter sighed and looked at me suspiciously. “Sir, are you sure you want to go? You seem to be missing a lot of flights today.”
“I promise, I’ll make this one.”
“Okay, I’ll put you on the standby list.”
“Thank you.”
That morning, it hadn’t taken long before the inkling of anxiety from yesterday had blown into full panic. What a fucking mess my life was. Even though Brandon was gone, I wasn’t naïve enough to think that he was gone for good. It may take him a few years to regroup and create a new scam. However, I was confident that he wouldn’t have learned his lesson.
I had been fucking selfish to try to keep Tia in my life. My focus had been on how she made me feel and how much I needed her. It was time I thought about her instead of my needs.
The first flight t
hat I booked was for 8 that morning. I missed that one and rebooked to nine o’clock. I missed that one.
Then the ten a.m.
Then the noon.
And all the other flights that afternoon and evening.
My frequent flyer status helped me get off the standby list every time. And every time, I missed the flight.
At 8:45 p.m., I finally managed to get on the plane that had originally been scheduled to leave at eight. This time, I made it past the lines, put my small suitcase in the cabinets above me and buckled in.
At 8:57, as the flight attendants checked the plane to prepare for takeoff, I stared out of the dark window, my reflection staring back at me. I had never felt worse in my life. This was worse than Tia leaving me ten years ago, worse than finding out she had a fiancé. I couldn’t quite put my finger on why this time felt different.
All I knew was the blinding, gut-wrenching panic that had taken over me. This is the only way to protect Tia. She deserves more. It would hurt her for a short time before she realized she was better off without me.
But this breakup would devastate me for the rest of my life. She was my world. She gave color and flavor to my life. How bleak my life would become without even the hope of her.
As the flight attendants locked the door and the plane started to move, my heart reacted viscerally to the motion. Once I left this time, there was no going back. She wouldn’t give me another chance. This was the final chapter, the back cover. With every uneven bump as the plane started to back away from the gate, I felt suffocated by the weight of the cover slamming shut.
“No!” Quickly, I unbuckled as I called out to the flight attendants who were getting ready to tell us about the importance of seat belts. “Stop!”
“Sir, please sit down, the plane is about to take off.” The flight attendant nearest me rushed over with her hands stretched out.
“You don’t understand. I have to get off.” Apologizing to the guy next to me, I stepped past him and into the aisle. I could see the other flight attendant coming up behind me.
Since I was in first class, I didn’t have that much distance to go to get to the door. But then what? Figure out a way to open the plane door and leap off a moving airplane? Coming out of this alive was rather critical for what I wanted to do next.
“Sir,” the second flight attendant said in a calm voice, as the first one reached for a wall speaker. “Please sit down. Would you like some snacks or a drink?”
“Not unless those were some magical peanuts,” I retorted. Fuck. “Haven’t you ever made a mistake?”
“What?”
“I made a huge mistake and need to fix it.”
“We can help you make a return reservation back to Boston. After you sit and we land in Chicago,” the first attendant insisted.
“No, that’s too late. I have to go back, or it’ll be too late. I really fucked up with my wife, and I have to try.”
“Just let the guy go back. We’re still near the gates, and we’re already delayed anyway,” came a voice from my back. I looked at the disgruntled teenager two rows down. The whole plane was staring at me, some with curiosity, others with alarm.
Another voice chimed in. This time a man in a rumpled suit. “He’s clearly deranged. He’s been sitting at the same gate since this morning when I arrived from Chicago.”
“Yeah, let him go. What if he’s dangerous?”
“What if he’s sick?”
“Please,” I begged.
The attendants looked at each other. One of them sighed and reached for the intercom. “Captain? We have an emergency here. One of the passengers is sick and needs to get off the plane.”
Minutes later, as soon as the plane door opened, I sprinted through the jetway back to the terminal. Behind me, I heard one of the pilots asking, “Carol, I thought you said he needed medical attention?”
“Must have found a miraculous cure. Want some peanuts?”
With a shaking hand, I reached to knock on the door. It had seemed natural to use my set of keys on the building, but for some reason, it was important that I be invited inside.
Before I could knock again, the door flung open.
“Hi, Tia.”
Her lovely mouth dropped into a surprised circle. I soaked in the sight, the smell, the essence of Tia. I longed to touch her, to pull her into my arms. If she would allow it. Regardless of what happened, it was the right decision to come back.
The beige of the manila folder against the black of her coat caught my eyes. I stared at it, with dawning resignation. I was too late.
“Going somewhere?” My voice came out accusatory. I was a fool in every way. And it was my fault.
“Did you forget something?” Tia demanded defensively, pointing to the forgotten suitcase that I still gripped. “Come back to step on my heart again? I heard you. Maybe not as quickly as you wanted me to, but I got there. You. Don’t. Want. Me. I get it now.”
What the fuck? Confused, I asked, “Not want you?” This was not a confrontation I wanted to have in the middle of the hallway, so I walked Tia back into her apartment.
Closing the door behind me, I asked again, certain that I had misheard. “Not want you? What are you talking about?”
“Isn’t that why you are running from us? You’d rather go back to Chicago than fight for us.”
I was furious at myself that I had made her doubt herself. “Not want you, Tia? All I do is want you. All I’ve ever wanted is you. All I’ve ever needed is you. I fell in love with you the day you told Joe Abbot to go to hell when he spit on my shoes in elementary school. I’ve wanted and needed and loved you every single day since then, not even daring to admit to myself how much. I was happy being whatever you wanted me, as long as I stayed in your life. Never did I think you would ever want something more than friendship. Losing you the first time broke me, yet I knew it would happen. Why would someone as warm, as good, as caring and thoughtful ever want to stay with someone like me? I had nothing to offer. I could only take. I took you away from your family. I took you away from college. And I didn’t have anything to fucking give you. So when you left, I didn’t bother to correct your mistaken assumptions and chase you, because what did I have to give you in return? I had already been selfish enough to keep you with me for two months.”
I swallowed hard. I didn’t have gentle words of love to offer Tia. “In the decade since, I thought about you every day. I wanted you every day, needed you, loved you. I think I tried so hard, because I wanted to prove to myself that I could be better, that if ever our paths crossed, maybe you could deem me worthy of your attentions. When you showed up at my doorstep in Chicago, I knew that it was my chance.”
Backing up against the couch, Tia sank into the cushions. Without giving it any thought, I knelt in front of her. But I didn’t touch her. I didn’t want her rejection. Not before I told her everything.
“If you’ve always wanted me, why did you leave today? I don’t understand—there’s nothing in our way anymore,” she whispered.
“I panicked.”
How could I put into words what I didn’t understand? How could I make her understand that I was scared to death of screwing up? “Life with me will never be smooth. I have no family wealth or connections. I have a regular job, not some fancy job that comes with private planes or payouts that would allow us to retire at thirty-five. I am prickly. I need space. I get frustrated and defensive easily. I’m insecure at times, I’m overconfident at other times. I’m stubborn. I don’t buy flowers, because they’re impractical and don’t last. I think horse-drawn carriages aren’t romantic because I don’t want a horse’s ass three feet from my face. I don’t know which spoon to use at fancy parties. I don’t know how to be a good husband to you, and I certainly don’t know how to be a dad to our kids. You shouldn’t want to be with me. The thought of screwing up terrifies me. I’ve seen how much Brandon can hurt the people around him, and I don’t want to hurt you like he hurt my mom. It’s not rational, but it�
��s how I felt. So I packed and booked a flight back to Chicago to make it easier for both of us.”
“Yet, you’re here with me.”
“So I am. I sat in the airport all day and tried to leave. But I couldn’t. I don’t want to leave you. I know what it was like without you, and I know what it was like with you. I can’t be without you. I can’t give you up. For however long you want me, I am yours.” I had nothing else. My heart was open, and it was hers.
When she didn’t speak, I felt that back book cover start to drop on me again. So this was it. She had given me chances, told me that she just wanted me, and I had not trusted her to know her mind. “Am I too late?”
With tears streaming down her face, Tia looked at the folder still in her hands. As my heart pounded against the finality of this, she reached inside and pulled out the papers. When she asked me to sign this time, I promised myself that I would. I would do whatever she wanted me to do.
“I was going to fly to Chicago tonight and demand that you sign these divorce papers.”
I nodded wearily. The book was closing. Beyond that, I could see nothing but an empty wasteland.
Tia started, her voice halting, “I was so elated last night, that we had solved one giant problem together. I’m not deluded thinking that our future will be all smooth-sailing. However, I thought we would face whatever challenges came together. I had been so proud, so excited, so hopeful that you put us first. Then today when I woke up to find that you had packed up your stuff, I decided that I couldn’t put myself in this emotional turmoil anymore. It’s too much back and forth—this uncertainty is driving me nuts.”
My heart shattered at the pain that I had put her through. “I wanted to call you that I was leaving, but I thought that as long as I delayed the conversation, we were still together…and I desperately wanted to avoid reality. It was stupid of me. I’m sorry.”
Give Love a Chai (Common Threads Book 2) Page 26